


Knowledge is Golden

by orphan_account, zero_kun



Category: Gravity Falls
Genre: Adult Dipper Pines, Alternate Universe - College/University, Consensual Sex, Content approved by S.C.A.R., Crime Solving, Dating, Drunk Sex, Fluff and Smut, House Party, Human Bill Cipher, Investigations, M/M, Mystery, Rape Aftermath, Rape Recovery, Teacher-Student Relationship, Torture, Uncle/Nephew Incest, Underage Drinking
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-09-20
Updated: 2018-03-29
Packaged: 2018-08-15 09:01:24
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 6
Words: 7,962
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8050243
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account, https://archiveofourown.org/users/zero_kun/pseuds/zero_kun
Summary: This will be The Sin Corps' third official collaboration. If you would like more information on Sin Corps, visit zero_kun's profile and/or check out Sin Corps communication work that's in zero's works.





	1. The Party

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Nevermore9](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Nevermore9/gifts).



> This will be The Sin Corps' third official collaboration. If you would like more information on Sin Corps, visit zero_kun's profile and/or check out Sin Corps communication work that's in zero's works.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dipper is stressed, drained, tired. The mental strain on him from college is immense. The weight on his shoulders, the burden of school, the pressure he feels is a lot for him to bear. So he decides to remedy that for at least a day by letting loose at Wendy's house party.

A nineteen-year-old Mason Pines is hunched over at his desk in his dorm, working on a mountain of homework. A funk permeates the air, old dirty clothes strewn about the small room, and week-old pizza crusts are to blame. Dipper—he thought he'd left that nickname behind in high school—is stressed out. He puts his hands to his face and slowly drags them down, pulling at the flesh beneath the eyes as well.

Dipper is at his wit's end.

All of a sudden, he hears a buzzing. Lifting up paper after paper, he eventually finds his phone. _It's a text from Wendy,_ Dipper mentally thinks to himself as he opens the text that reads:

hey Dipper im throwing a house party tomorrow u want to come there's booze!

Dipper normally isn't the party kind of guy, but he figures, Why the fuck not? _I need a day to relax, unwind, and have fun,_ he thinks, looking at the stack of homework and textbooks to his left and right.

Sure I'll b there, Dipper texts back.

Dipper usually likes books and homework. At least, he did when he was in high school. But college is a whole other monster, the sheer amount completely overwhelming him and stressing him out. Plus, midterms are right around the corner. Not to mention the added difficulties of his Grunkle Ford being one of his professors.

After he and Grunkle Stan had come back from sailing around the world on the _Stan o' War II_ , Ford was offered a job at Oregon University as the Advanced Physics and Applied Mathematics professor. And, well, with Ford not getting any younger, he took them up on the offer. Lecturing classes seemed to be an incredibly easy job in comparison to what he'd been doing before.

Abandoning the rest of his homework and flicking off the gooseneck lamp on his desk, Dipper crawls into bed, heavy bags beneath his eyes. He tries not to let the strain of college and anxiety keep sleep at bay for him.

The next day, Dipper arrives at the house party. Loud music makes the windows vibrate in their frames, wafts of cigarette and weed smoke hitting him as he enters and makes a beeline for the alcohol to help quell his nerves. Getting a beer, he pops the tab and takes a sip.

"Hey, Wendy. Thanks for inviting me," Dipper yells over the music, taking another drink.

"No problem, dude!" Wendy responds, moving on to meet and greet other guests.

Dipper ventures further inside, navigating through the small crowd of people and finding a spot on a couch to sit and relax on. He allows himself to enjoy the atmosphere of the party, only getting up for another beer a few times.

Lo and behold, he's garnered the attention of another partygoer. Bill Cipher has had his eye on Dipper since he sat down.

Suddenly, Dipper hears the chant of "Shots! Shots! Shots!" from Wendy's group of friends. He goes to the kitchen and joins in on the festivities.

Bill Cipher follows like a cat stalking its prey. Dipper throws back a shot of vodka to a small audience of drunken partyers. Dipper's eye catches Bill in the crowd, giving him a look over while taking a second shot. He notes his golden locks of perfectly styled hair, his slim but muscular physique, almost feminine at first glance, and most definitely notes his plump ass in tight, black, skinny jeans.

Dipper barely manages to get to the sexy man before stumbling and nearly falling on his face. He shoots a hand out to grab a nearby table for support.

 _Smooth_ , he thinks to himself, _smooth._

"Shit, you're hot," he blurts out.

"I'm Bill, and you are Pine Tree," Bill murmurs before giggling uncontrollably.

Dipper tosses back another shot of vodka and sighs in relief as it takes the edge off. "I'm not Pine Tree—oh, God, that makes sense. I think." He shakes his head. "I'm Dipper."

Somewhere in the back of Dipper's mind, he knows that he's going to be way hungover tomorrow and that this was a huge mistake. He had fucking exams, but he couldn't resist.

He says yes to Bill's offer to go to his dorm. He waves his hand vaguely at Wendy, giving a slurred "buh-bye" on his way out.

When they get to Bill's room, the first thing Bill does is offer Dipper some more champagne, and Dipper eagerly agrees. The thought doesn't even cross his liquor-laden mind that Bill's aiming to get him inebriated enough to fuck him.

Bill tells him that they're going to experiment, and Dipper figures it's going to be something innocent.

But when the golden man pushes him onto the plush bed, he nearly squeals in happiness. He's been in college for a few months, and he's sex deprived as  _fuck._

Bill presses his lips roughly against Dipper's, and as he's gasping, he snatches the opportunity to shove his tongue down Dipper's throat.

For a moment, they're two boys grinding against each other, sweaty and moaning. Gradually Bill slowly gains the upper hand, slipping into the role of dominance with ease.

Dipper gasps as Bill takes his time nipping and kissing along his jaw. He's already hard as _fuck_ and barely able to keep himself from crying in frustration.

Bill finally lifts his neon yellow shirt before sitting up to take off his own.

"Oh, my god. He has abs," Dipper murmurs, his voice rich with admiration. He hasn't even realized he's said it aloud.

Bill smirks as he feels something poking at his thigh. His head slowly travels down to Dipper's chest, and he wraps his lips around one nipple as it hardens, before turning to do the same with the other. 

"Please don't make me wait." Dipper begs, shimmying out of his pants and underpants to expose his hard, dripping erection.

Bill begins to suck on Dipper's decently sized meat while carefully inserting his index finger inside of him.

In his drunken state, all the sensations start to blur together in a euphoric ecstasy. The room goes dark and the bed disappears, only him and Bill in an endless void. Lust all consuming Bill, desire all consuming Dipper.

Dipper tries to focus on the unique and unforgettable feel of being penetrated as Bill has his rough ways with the semi-conscious man. The head of Bill's thick cock violently thrashes against the impaired man's prostate.

Waves of pleasure rock their bodies, muscles strain, sweat drips, cum leaks from Dipper and pools on his stomach. He is a wasted mess.

They both fall asleep.

However, Dipper wakes up about an hour later and realizes he should go home. Too bad his dorm is on the other side of the massive campus.

Dipper gets out of the nice plush bed without waking Bill, throws on his clothes, and walks out. He flinches in pain, rubbing his sore ass. "Forgot to make him wear a condom," he mutters to himself, still partially inebriated. He stumbles out of the dorm, making his way back to his in the dead of night. Not a few minutes later, the fact that he's going to have to walk through a small alleyway hits him like a ton of bricks, suddenly making him nervous as fuck. He swallows his fear as he shuffles along.

It's pitch blank out at this hour, leaving Dipper blind, so it's a complete surprise when an arm grabs him from behind. It somehow manages to stuff a piece of cloth into his mouth and simultaneously bind his hands.

His cries come out muffled as the person ties a piece of rope around his neck and tugs on him like he's some dog.

He's helpless as the person pushes him to the jagged floor of the alleyway, flecks of rock digging into his back the moment his attacker rips off his shirt to toy with his nipples. It's not at all like when Bill did it. It only hurts and leaves him wriggling to get away from the unwanted touch. 

The person yanks on his hair, and Dipper feels like someone's trying to scalp him with their bare hands. _Oh, shit..._  His entire body was already aching from recent fucking, and now this rough dude was going to rape him.

His pants are shoved down to his ankles, and his legs are spread too far. When he tries to close them, his captor slaps him so hard, it feels like someone is bashing his skull repeatedly.

He screams as the man slams into him without using any lube, the cock burning his entrance like fire.

Each thrust feels like it's ripping him apart, and he's screaming like someone is killing him—which it very much felt like. Soon he feels something warm trickling down his ass. He's bleeding, he realizes. He's being abused like this, and it was slowly killing him.

Unlike Bill's attentive fucking, this man was rough and uncaring.

The ropes bite into his wrist, making them bleed too. He's dying, he's dying...

Then in the next instance, all pressure is off of him and a rough voice is whispering into his ear, "If you report me, I swear to God you will not have a happy life."

Then his wrists are free, and the cloth is off his face.

He stands up, shaking violently, pulling up his pants with numb fingers. He leaves his shirt where it is. He can't wear it, anyway.

Dipper hobbles, limps, and staggers to his dorm. He is lucky no one is up so late to see him. That's the last thing he wants. He wouldn't be able to bear the humiliation and shame if someone saw him in such a state, to add to the wretched cocktail of embarrassment he was already experiencing. Not to mention the overwhelming guilt.

Still bloody, Dipper enters his dorm and just stands in the middle of the small room. A spectrum of emotions race though his head—fear, regret, shame, hopelessness, embarrassment, self doubt, and anger. In a flash of anger, he lashes out, yelling, hitting, and swiping all of the paperwork and books off the desk onto the floor.

After the firestorm inside him finally quiets, he settles on pity. "How could I be so dumb? So stupid, so careless?" Dipper wails, beating himself up. _Maybe I deserved it,_ he thinks in the darkest recesses of his mind.

He strips off his dirtied clothes, the blood now dried to the color of rust. He tosses the pain-filled reminder in the trash.

Donning some other dirty clothes that were lying on the floor, he crawls into bed, hoping to never again see the light of day. Unable to sleep, anxiety and worry flare inside him at every odd sound he hears. Dipper just curls up into the fetal position, rocking himself back and forth and sucking his thumb.

He does not get one minute of sleep this night, tears and snot soaking his pillow from his uncontrollable sobbing.


	2. Detention!

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ford makes a deal.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for all the support on this fic!

The very next day.

Hungover and sleep deprived, Dipper sluggishly enters the huge university exam room like a zombie, dark rings around his eyes, like a raccoon. His hair and cloths are disheveled, and he wouldn't be here if it weren't for his unusual devotion to a clean attendance. Sitting down in the back of the classroom and hoping not to be noticed by Ford, a spike of pain shoots up his spine as he makes contact with the seat, a very uncomfortable reminder of last night's traumatic event.

The bell rings, and the tests are handed out. Dipper tries to remember the answers, but nothing is coming up. He's drawing a blank. The only thing he can think about is the darkness of the alley, the pain emanating from his wrists and other areas, and the shame and guilt.

He nervously bites and gnaws on his pen more than usual, to the point that it starts leaking onto the paper just 10 minutes into the test.

Frustrated, he tosses the pen, retrieving a pencil as a replacement. However, it doesn't take long for the one end of the pencil to become pulpy mess after Dipper's anxiously chewed off the bad-tasting eraser and metal cap.

Time goes by quickly as Dipper tries his best to fill in reasonable answers.

"Times up! Pencils down!" Ford yells clearly from the front, walking to the back of the room.

Dipper looks up at the clock in horror. He's never not completed a test within the time limit. Looking back down, he sees he's only halfway done. He hastily scrambles to finish the test, at least filling something in for every question.

Suddenly, a six-fingered hand snatches Dipper's paper.

"I said pencils down, no exceptions. Dipper, see me after class for detention," Ford orders strictly.

Dipper grunts and sighs, putting his head down on the desk. He's so disappointed in himself. He knows he bombed the exam.

Ford knew Dipper was far from straight—who is in college?—and he has been wanting some of that sweet, incestuous college ass all year!

Dipper watches everyone else leave while Ford grades his paper first. After which, he goes around the room locking the doors and comes to Dipper's desk.

"You got a 24%. This means you will fail," Ford states firmly.

"24%? I thought I'd at least get a 50%," Dipper says in disbelief.

"But I can bring that 24% up to a low but believable 81%, if you help me out with this," Ford offers, placing his clothed erection on the desk.

Dipper has always found Ford to be attractive in certain ways, and seeing no other options, he agrees and consents to his naughty deal.

"Okay," Dipper answers, massaging the others buldge while still sitting at the desk.

"Get up and bend over the desk," Ford commands in a gruff and needy tone.

He does as he is told and feels a hand pull down his pants and underwear followed by the sound of a zipper undoing.

Ford pulls out his throbbing dick and inserts a finger to considerately loosen up Dipper, and finds Dipper is already loose. Ford can't wait any longer, the sight of the supple young ass is too much. He goes in.

Dipper winces and grunts in pain but bears it and lets his grunkle use his hole.

Thrusting in and out, Ford asks, "Are you okay? It's unlike you to fail so miserably. And to be honest, you look like shit."

_[A reference picture. Not 100% accurate, but enjoy: https://goo.gl/images/8aEbXB]_

"I went to a party yesterday and had a few drinks," Dipper explains, knowing that Ford would be fine with the whole underage drinking thing.

Ah. He probably got laid. That's why he's so loose, Ford thinks.

"And—and I was raped," Dipper says, tears welling.

Ford stops inside Dipper. "Tell me about it."

Kinky Ford gets turned on by rape stories.

"Um, I was walking back to my dorm. It was dark. He came out of nowhere—ah!" Dipper is interrupted by a moan escaping his lips as Ford hits his sweet spot.

"Continue," Ford says, breathless and on the edge of orgasm.

"He then tied my hands up, pushed me to the ground, hit me in the head a few times, then hopped on top of me and pounded into me," Dipper elaborates, cumming onto the desk.

Ford gives Dipper one final deep thrust, cumming deep inside of him. Normally, he would have moaned loudly, but Ford is mindful of their environment and keeps them both quiet.

"Okay. We should get cleaned up and get ready for our classes., Ford suggests, tucking himself away and straightening his shirt.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Who would like me to continue this, where Ford finds Dipper's rapist and Dipper gets revenge on him?
> 
> Please comment, kudos, and subscribe for more content from the Sin Corps!


	3. The Investigation

Although Ford doesn't express it to Dipper, at the time he was extremely pissed. He loves Dipper dearly, perhaps a little too much. Ford had made up his mind to find and capture Dipper's rapist. However, as intelligent as Ford is, he decides it would be wise to enlist some help in this matter.

"Fiddleford, I need to ask you a personal favor," Ford states matter-of-factly, taking a bite out of his ham and cheese sandwich. 

It's not uncommon for Ford and Fiddleford to eat lunch together at work, being old friends. They pretty much ignore the gossiping whispers of the other faculty about them.

"Sure," Fiddleford quickly responds, unpacking his lunch.

"It would involve the illegal use of university equipment," Ford explains further in a serious tone, biting into an apple.

"So, off the books. What is it?" Fiddleford asks intrigued, sipping his orange juice.

"This stays between us, okay?" Ford asks, not quite sure if he should divulge such a private matter.

"Of course, I'll probably forget about it a month from now, anyway." Fiddleford reassures him, reminding Ford he still struggles with memory loss. However, this does not impact his job as the biocybernetics and engineering professor.

"Dipper, my great nephew, who attends here was...raped on campus, and I intended to find the person responsible," Ford confides.

“I'm sorry to hear that. You didn't call the police?" Fiddleford questions, dabbing his mouth with a napkin.

"No police. I will personally make him pay," Ford demands with a bit of anger to his voice, slamming down his empty mug of coffee.

"Okay, okay. What can I do to help?" Fiddleford asks, throwing his hands up in a gesture of "I give up."

"You have easier access to the DNA sequencer in the forensics lab. Take this sample and exclude my DNA and a student by the name of Bill Cipher. And Dipper's, of course. The remaining DNA should be his rapist. While you’re doing that, I'm going to hack the university's surveillance system and see if I can dredge up any clues to his identity," Ford explains his lengthy plan, getting up with his laptop beneath his arm.

Having still a couple hours until his next class, Ford walks to an outdoor café and orders another cup of coffee, black.

Using his laptop, he connects to the café’s Wi-Fi—he masked both his and the Wi-Fi's IP addresses—routes it through a server in Russia. Then, using a backdoor in the university surveillance system security software, he's in, and no one will know it was him.

He spends the majority of his break watching about a twenty-minute portion of recording of where and when the incident took place over and over. The footage is grainy, blurry, and poorly focused, but he can make out an orange or red circle on the hoodie of the attacker.

~~*~~

Meanwhile, Dipper's whole life has been turned upside down. Racked with fear, anxiety, guilt, and depression, he has barely eaten anything in the past week and has rarely even left his bed, let alone his dorm. The traumatizing assault has left him the shell of the man he once was.

In the latter half of the week after the assault, a nightmare began to reoccur every time he managed to fall asleep. He would wake up in the middle of the night drenched in sweat, heart racing, not being able to remember the dream—no doubt a frightening one, at that.

Dipper isolates himself in loneliness, only his shadow to keep him company. He won't even pick up the phone when Mabel calls. Alone in a vast sea of self-pity on a small boat, turbulent waves crash against the dinghy, threatening to topple over at any time.


	4. Support

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Wendy and Bill come over to see what's up with Dipper. Ford is one step closer to finding Dipper's rapist.

Wendy, having her own life to take care of, doesn't see Dipper, her dear friend, nearly as much as she would like. Even so, she does notice something has been drastically wrong ever since the day of her party.

Concerned, she takes time out of her busy schedule to stop by his dorm and check in on him. Walking down the empty hall, the thumping of her boots echo off the linoleum. She approaches his dorm room, 318.

She gingerly knocks on the door. "Hey, Dipper. It's me. Can I come in?" she asks in a soft voice.

"Go away!" Dipper yells, not fully recognizing the voice through the door.

He's still not really in the mood for company either way, even though it's probably the best thing for him.

However, as a good friend, she does persist.

"Dipper, what's wrong? Please let me come in," She pleads through the door once more.

Recognizing the voice this time, Dipper decides to get up from his bed and shuffle over to unlock the door, opening it slightly.

She slowly enters the room. It's dark and, well...smells bad. But she puts that aside as Dipper flicks on the desk lamp and silently motions for her to sit in the desk chair, as he takes a seat on his dirty, unkempt bed.

"Dipper, are you okay? You look like shit, man," she asks in a casual tone to try and lighten the mood. She can feel Dipper emanating an extremely negative vibe.

Dipper's eyes dart around the room, not being able to make eye contact or even look at her, mainly due to shame and embarrassment.

"I'm fine," he lies.

"No, you're not. You haven't been ever since you left my party with that Bill Cipher guy."

Wendy isn't dumb. Seeing the signs, she finally puts two and two together. She places her hand on his knee.

"Did he date rape you? I should have never let you leave," she says in a hushed and serious tone. Dipper's eyes go wide as he starts to withdraw farther onto his bed, away from her.

All but confirming it aloud, Dipper hugs his pillow tightly to his chest. This makes Wendy angry, livid, and partially guilty.

Just then, the unlocked door to his dorm opens wide with none other than the man in question in the doorway.

"You!" Wendy says, with loathing venom dripping in her voice. Unable to control her rage, she gets up, grabs him by the front of his shirt, and pushes him back against the hallway wall. She starts punching him straight in the face before Dipper has a chance to react to any of this.

"Wendy, STOP!" Dipper yells.

"But he—!" she counters.

"No, he didn't."

"What the hell, Red? Damn, that hurts," Bill exclaims, grabbing his eye.

These are the first words out of Bill Cipher's mouth as the initial shock of being abruptly assaulted fades.

"Both of you in here, NOW!" Dipper says again, this time in seething whisper. The last thing he wants is to draw attention and make a scene.

With sitting space being limited in the dorm, Wendy takes the chair again and Bill sits on the bed, as Dipper fetches a plastic sandwich bag and some ice from his mini fridge's freezer shelf.

Sitting on the bed himself, Dipper carefully places the makeshift ice pack over Bill's eye, holding it there for Bill perhaps a little too long.

"Thanks. I got it from here," Bill says, putting his hand over Dipper's.

"Sorry about that," Dipper apologizes, mainly for Wendy.

"I thought—" Wendy starts to say, before getting cut off.

"You thought what? That it was good idea to attack me as soon as I opened up the door?" Bill hisses, pissed off at the situation.

"That you raped him..." she admits with shame and regret in her voice.

"What?! We had consensual sex, albeit drunk sex," Bill informs her, shocked by the accusation.

Having isolated himself and bottled up his emotions Dipper finally feels the need to tell someone, to confide in someone.

"Yeah. Um, it was after I left your place, Bill. I was..." Dipper starts. But now, for whatever reason, he can't say that word.

Awkward silence ensues, none of the parties involved knowing how to continue.

Finally, Wendy breaks the tension.

"I'm sorry, Bill. I shouldn't have punch you," Wendy apologizes sincerely.

"It's fine. I may have done the same thing if I was in you situation." Bill's tone is full of forgiveness and understanding.

"Why'd you come over here, anyway, Bill?" Dipper inquires, trying not to sound rude.

"I was concerned about you, and, well, I wanted to...ask you for a date?" Bill admits. He hesitates asking the unusual question.

"What?! Really?" Wendy interrupts. Even not knowing him personally, she knows that Bill Cipher is notorious around school for one-night stands and being single because of it.

A slight blush spreads across Dipper's face at the thought of being desired, and being romantically wanted by someone is a new and very flattering feeling.

"Yes, really."

"But that's not like you."

"You don't know me."

"Everyone in college knows you."

"Sure," Dipper finally answers, stopping the two from bickering.

"I have to get going, Dipper. You have my number. If you need to talk, please use it," Wendy says, giving him a hug before leaving out the door.

"Will do, Wendy. Thanks. See you around," Dipper says, meekly waving goodbye.

Bill and Dipper chit chat on his bed for about an hour, getting to know each other—likes, dislikes, hobbies, and interests—but Bill also eventually takes his leave—with Dipper's number, no less.

******************************************************************

Meanwhile, Ford is walking through the halls of the campus on his way to meet Fiddleford in the teacher's lounge. Head in the clouds, his mind is somewhere else, trying to mentally come up with a clue or lead, something to help narrow down the pool of potential suspects from the thousands of students.

Oblivious, Ford crashes into a student, causing their papers they were holding to scatter on the floor.

Oh! Jeez, I'm terribly sorry. I wasn't paying attention to where I was going. Here, let me help you," Ford apologizes after almost knocking the man down.

Kneeling down to pick up the papers, Ford notices the student is in the school's marching band uniform.

Then it hits him like a ton of bricks: the Oregon State University's orange Beaver head logo that's on the back of his uniform.

 _Dipper's rapist is a marching band member!_ Ford thinks to himself at the sudden realization.

Ding-dong, the class bell tolls.

"Here, I'll write you an excuse. What's your name?" Ford offers, realizing he's made the student late.

"Robbie Valentino," he states.

"Okay. Here. Again, sorry for carelessly walking into you," Ford says, apologizing again before going their separate ways.

Ford enters the teacher's lounge to find a patiently waiting Mcgucket in the corner and sits down adjacent to him.

"Sorry I'm late. Do you have it?" Ford whispers, as if it were a shady drug deal.

"Yup. Sure do. I also made this," Magucket answers, showing off his newly crafted device.

"Excellent! What is it?" Ford inquires.

"It's a gene sequencing gun. You simply feed the biological material in—blood, hair swabs—into the front of it, and it will compare it to the gene sequence already programmed in," Magucket explains.

"Thanks you so much, old friend, I owe you one," Ford expresses his gratitude while trying not to draw attention to themselves.

Now all Ford has to do is get the DNA of every band member. That's not hard at all. At least he's been able to narrow it down from thousands to a couple hundred.


	5. Dinner Date

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ford executes his plan. 
> 
> This is going to get dark and even darker NEXT chapter .I'm talking graphic torture. What Dipper needs is to get justice to resolve and move on from his rape. 
> 
> An eye for an eye, as it were.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I dedicate this chapter to Ryan for his comments, giving me the motivation and confidence to write it. Thank you. I'm considering changing the waitress to a waiter and giving him the name Ryan, if you would be okay with that.

After about a week of texting Dipper on a daily basis, Bill has finally managed to persuade him to go out to dinner with him.

Sitting in a booth at the small, quaint Chinese restaurant in town, Bill is waiting with his cheek in his hand and elbow on the table while his other hand's fingers tap on the table impatiently.

This is the first date Bill's been on in a while. He thinks about all the times he's showed people up after sex when they were expecting to go out to breakfast the next day.

Now that the shoe is on the other foot, he starts to feel like shit, getting a taste of his own medicine.

Exhaling a depressed and heavy sigh, he mutters,"Pine Tree said he'd be here," under his breath, getting discouraged.

Finally after about twenty minutes of waiting, Bill decides to get up to leave. Throwing a few bills on the table to cover his drink, he shuffles his way toward the door, hanging his head.

Reaching to open the door to leave, it suddenly forcefully flies open, hitting his hand and knocking him to the floor.

~~*~~

"Oh my god Bill I'm so sorry!" Dipper exclaims winded, kneeling down to help the smaller man up.

Now on his feet, Bill grips his hand, letting out a short grunt of pain.

"Is it broken? I'm so sorry," Dipper asks and apologizes again, fearing the worst.

"No. It's fine. My middle finger was jammed against the door. It hurt a little, but I'll live," Bill explains. The pain he's feeling is completely overshadowed by the joy in his heart. Pine Tree actually showed!

"Excuse me. May I show you two to a booth. I assume you're together?" a hostess intrudes.

They were still crouched in the lobby by the front door.

Being escorted to a new booth, Dipper and Bill sit down. "Your waitress will be with you shortly," the hostess informs them, handing them menus. They make small talk as they peruse the entrees.

"Sorry I was late," Dipper apologizes again, embarrassed by his uncharacteristic tardiness.

"It's okay. I'm glad you're here now. Why where you late, anyway?" Bill inquires out of curiosity.

A visible blush falls across Dipper's cheeks, his eyes darting around. He couldn't possibly tell Bill that he forgot he was broke when he agreed to go out to eat and spent the entire day scrounging around for change in his dorm to find enough to pay for his meal.

Too embarrassed to admit the truth, he quickly comes up with the most reasonable excuse he can.

"Ah, well, you see, I walked here, and I underestimated the time it would take me."

It wasn't a complete lie. Dipper did jog to the restaurant. It wasn't that far from the university, but being as meticulous a planner as he was, he knew exactly how long it would take him.

"Hello. What can I get you two? Wait. Weren't you over there?" The same waitress that served Bill before points to his previous table, confused.

"Ah, yeah. I hope this is okay and not too much trouble," Bill asks in the awkward situation.

"It's fine. So what will you two be having?"

Dipper speaks up. "Could I get a shrimp egg roll and a small wonton soup and water and tea, please."

"Sure. Is that it?" the waitress asks, perplexed by the meager amount of food he's ordered.

Having double-checked the menu already, those are basically the two cheapest items he can afford.

"Yeah, that's it." he politely answers.

"Okay. And you, sir?" the waitress asks.

"I'll have the beef fried rice and the General Tso's chicken, please. And a Sprite." B,ll states, folding the menu and handing it back.

"Sierra Mist okay?" the waitress offers.

"Yeah, that'll work," Bill happily agrees. They're basically the same, anyhow.

"Okay. I'll be back with your drinks shorty," she says, taking her leave with menus in hand.

Dipper looks around and admires the Asian décor. He's used to eating at far less fancy fast food joints. Even though it's no five stars, it's definitely a change of pace, and the atmosphere is nice.

Meanwhile, Bill is just absorbing Dipper, soaking in every subtle detail of his face and upper body. He doesn't care if he's caught staring.

Dipper looks back at the attractive blonde and notices. "Bill, your finger!"

Bill's finger had begun to very noticeably swell in stark contrast to Bill's petite almost girly fingers and hands. Bill was too oblivious, being smitten with Dipper.

With perfect timing, the waitress approaches with their drinks. "Excuse me, miss? Could we get a cup with just ice in it, please? And fast?" Dipper hastily and politely asks.

"Of course," she utters as she departs quickly, sensing the urgency in his voice.

She returns shortly thereafter with the cup of ice. Bill just rests his fingers in it.

"Thank you. Phew." Dipper exhales his held breath and tension in his chest.

"Relax. I'll live," Bill reassures him, waving it off with his other hand.

"Your food will be done soon. If you need anything else, please ask," she says, turning around to tend to her other tables.

"Seems like you're always getting hurt. At least your black eye is fading," Dipper mentions out of genuine concern.

"Meh. Comes with the territory." Bill shrugs, taking a sip of his Sierra Mist. "Oh, look! Our food!" His eyes catch sigh tof the waitress moving toward them with a tray.

Being a poor, broke college kid, Dipper doesn't eat nearly as much as he should, and his stomach growls as the production of saliva in his mouth increases.

Dipper quickly devours his food at a fevered pace while still maintaining his manners and proper etiquette.

"What territory?" Dipper questions, after eating his food.

"Huh? Oh, the territory of being an ex-slut," Bill blatantly admits, spooning some rice into his mouth.

"Ex?" Dipper quipps, raising an eyebrow.

"Yeah, well, I kinda have to be, if I'm serious about dating you. And, you know, becoming boyfriends later down the line," Bill bluntly states, making his intentions very clear.

Shut up, Bill. This isn't good first date conversion material. Quick! Change the subject!

"Here. Try some General Tso's. It's to die for." He slides a few pieces onto the other man's plate.

As the dinner date winds down, Bill gets the check and promptly pays for everything.

"Bill?! I could have paid for my own food," Dipper whispers heatedly, shocked and almost mad he spent the entire day looking for quarters.

"It's okay. I wanted to treat you. Maybe next time, you'll get a little more, penny pincher," Bill teases.

Dipper growls, perturbed. "At least let me cover the tip." Dipper neatly stacks and arranges his pocket change on the table for the waitress.

Both getting up to leave, Bill makes his move and tastefully places his arm around Dipper's lower back. Initially flinching at the unexpected contact, Dipper slowly leans into the gentle touch. They walk outside and Bill offers, "Would you like a ride back? And you know I wouldn't have minded picking you up."

"Sure. Thanks," Dipper answers, nodding appreciatively.

Retrieving his keys from his pockets and raising his hand into the air, Bill presses the button on his keys.

Dipper's eyes immediately dart towards a solid yellow Dodge Charger. His jaw hangs open for a bit.

"That's your car?!" He utters, gawking, impressed by the clear status symbol.

"Well, technically, it's my dad's." Bill's smug face disappears as he admits the truth.

They get in. The scent and feel of the vinyl interior is something new to Dipper, and the roar of the engine sends a chill up his spine.

"So this is how you got bitches," Dipper jokes.

"Yup. Although I always said it was my car," he informs, if only a little ashamed.

The drive to the university is extremely short. Bill escorts Dipper to his dorm building. Dipper gives him a quick little peck on the cheek and thanks him for the dinner and wonderful time, when suddenly they hear a voice from behind them.

A clearly distraught Thompson approaches them. "Cipher! I thought we had something special, you whore!" Thompson's eyes are red and puffy his cheeks glistening with the remnants of tears. He raises his hand and slaps Bill across the face hard. "I never want to see you again!" he yells, storming off.

Bill holds his now red, swelling lip and cheek.

"Bill!" Dipper exclaims, in shock after what just happened.

"Comes with the territory, remember?" Bill says, spitting blood into the grass.

"Come on. I'll get you some ice." The walk to his room. "Jeez, Bill. You're going to have one helluva fat lip," Dipper comments, fetching a baggy of ice.

"Won't you kiss it and make it feel better?"

"No," he says, handing him the bag while simultaneously intentionally stepping on his foot.

"Ouch. Why'd you do that?"

"Comes with the territory," Dipper responds with a little snicker.

~~*~~

The next day with Ford.

He has devised an ingenious plan to reduce the suspect pool. Using his laptop, he remotely disables the cameras in the wing of the campus he and the band are in. Then, with a napkin, he pulls the fire alarm after checking if the coast is clear. With that, he ushers the band members out of the auditorium where they were practicing.

Quickly brandishing the DNA gun and a box of swabs, he starts to go through the woodwind instruments first, surmising they would have the most DNA. He'll worry about the other instruments—percussion, string, etc.—later.

After the first ten samples, the buzzing sound for an unmatched sample starts to get irritating. After twenty, frustration sets in, swabbing mouthpiece after mouthpiece. After going through forty different wind instruments, time is running out. Students will be let back in soon.

When Ford hears a ding, he realizes he's found a match to the DNA. Ford looks at the case from which he got the clarinet in question from. "Thompson," he reads with seething, loathing venom.

Ford did not anticipate finding a match this soon. This means he can start Phase 2 of his plan: acquisition of the rapist. After everyone returns to their classes.

Ford makes up a reason that Thompson needs to see him after class, telling him it's for extra credit.

Ford waits at his desk, his rage and anger building like an ever-darkening storm.

The double doors open, breaking the silence of the deserted lecture room. "So, Mr. P. What's this about extra credit?" Thompson asks, walking down to Ford's work desk, his voice echoing in the emptiness of the room.

"All right. Let me explain. But, first, you must be parched from blowing into your clarinet. Here." Ford hands him an innocuous water bottle, knowing that it's been spiked.

"Thanks. I am." Thompson grabs the bottle, taking a huge gulp. "Say, how did you know I played th—" Thompson falls to the floor with a thud before he can finish his sentence.

With careless and unfeeling eyes gazing upon the body on the floor, Ford pulls out a laser pointer with his six-fingered hand. With his other hand, he attaches a crystal to the end, shrinking Thompson to the size of an action figure. He picks him up and drops him into his pocket.

Ford leaves on vacation to his semi-secluded summer home, the mystery shack.

Now at the mystery shack, Ford goes down to the deepest depths of the basement without even greeting anyone.

Turning the still unconscious man back to his normal size, Ford begins to tie him down securely to a very sturdy metal chair, when he's interrupted by his brother.

"Ford?! What is this?" Stan immediately questions the highly illegal situation.

Ford turns around calmly, putting his hands together, palm to palm. "Stanley, remember when Pedro and his heavily armed, tattooed friends came here asking for money and you said not to ask any questions?" Ford's eyes are cold and calculating as they look at his brother.

"Okay, okay. I get it. I didn't see nothin' or hear nothin',"Stan says, taking his leave.

Good thing only Stanley has access to this part of the basement. Not even Soos does, so he won't be interfering.

Soon after, Thompson begins to stir awake. "Wha—where the hell am I? Mr. P, is that you?" he asks, still dazed from the drugging.

"Dipper will be here soon to get his revenge on you. But that doesn't mean I can't soften you up a little." Ford backhands him with all his strength. SMACK

Thompson quickly becomes a sniveling, crying pile of mush under Ford.

Dipper knocks on the door. Ford gets up from his seat where he was taking a break from beating Thompson.

"Ah, Dipper. Come in."

"Ford?! What the hell?" Dipper is shocked it at the sight of Thompson bruised and bloodied.

"Don't be so shocked. This is your rapist," Ford informs him, handing a small knife to Dipper to inflict pain.

"What? I didn't rape anyone!" he yells, still sniveling.

"Is he really?" Dipper feels sick, bile inching up his throat.

"DNA matched 100%," Ford states.

Angry, remembering all the pain and anguish, Dipper stabs him in the upper arm. Thompson howls in pain.

"I didn't rape you! Is this for smacking bill?" Thompson pleads, guessing at the reason.

"You raped him! I have your DNA!" Ford yells.

"What DNA?!" Thompson begs, struggling in the chair.

Dipper holds off on a second cut, doubt now in his mind.

"From your clarinet before the fire drill. It was a perfect match!"

"Wait! I remember we were all joking around, and I had placed two clarinets in my mouth! One was my own and the other was his. I must have given him back the wrong one!" Thompson exclaims at the sudden realization.

"Whose clarinet?!" both Ford and Dipper yell at the same time.


	6. Healing justice

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Graphic violence and gore ahead you have been warned

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ford and Dipper capture the right person this time and take sweet, sweet, bloody revenge.

"Robbie Valentino" Thompson breathlessly reveals, before blacking out.

"Bull!" Ford yells, grabbing the DNA gun and a swab. He quickly swipes a drop blood off Thompson's arm from Dipper's small cut, feeding it into the gun they hear a buzzing sound. 

"Shit... I've made a miscalculation." Ford states.

Dipper looks to Ford clearly seeing gears turning in the old man's head. Ford is trying to come up with a plan B and his next course of action. 

Ford knows he can't let his frustrations and mistake keep him from his goal. "Dipper do you want to take revenge on the person who raped you," Ford takes a short pause looking Dipper in the eye. "to get resolution a sense of closure, so you can move on." Ford grips Dipper's shoulders. 

Dipper knows violence isn't the answer but there is some part of him that wants payback, to put his rapist threw as much pain as he caused him. Dipper's restless night still haunt him, the nightmares are still unrelenting.

"Yes." Dipper says, he just wants to end this, the nightmares, the guilt, the fear and be able to have a normal healthy relationship with Bill.

"Ok, good, now can you get me a spray bottle and vodka from the kitchen?" 

"Sure." Dipper responds, his face scrunching up with confusion and curiosity as to why. 

As Dipper fetches the booze Ford goes over to one of his lab tables grabbing a bottle of chemicals here, a powder catalyst there, mixing several chemicals into a cocktail. 

"Here's the Vodka if you wanted and the spray bottle." Dipper announces on his return. 

"Excellent, hand it over." Ford orders. 

Dipper gives him the bottle and watches as Ford take a huge chug of it and tips the bottle towards Dipper offering him some. Dipper passes and watches as Ford takes a syringe filling it up with a mysterious chemical concoction. 

Ford injects it under Thompson's arm pit to avoid detection. "That should make him forget the past 24 to 48 hours," Ford comments. "now fill up the spray bottle with vodka and give him a good dousing." Ford commands walking over to his lab coat rifling through it trying to find the Lazer pointer with the shrinking crystal attached to it.

After Dipper is done Ford shrinks Thompson once again. "Come let's go," Ford says. Before leaving Ford asks Stan. "Do you still have Pedro's number?"

Dipper and Ford get in his car, the ride is quite, not even a lot of traffic on the road it is the middle of the night however.

Pulling into his professor's parking space Dipper and Ford go to Thompson's dorm and un-shrink him at the bottom of the stairs. Dumping his unconscious body in the dead of night.

"Try and get some rest Dipper, meet me at my car during lunch tomorrow." Ford says, walking Dipper back to his dorm.

Dipper doesn't get that much sleep nor does Ford. The next day things go about normally, Dipper takes his morning classes luckily Robbie doesn't share any classes with him and Ford has a couple lectures. 

Time goes by quickly for the too, then the lunch bell tolls. Dipper walks to Ford's car book bag slung over his shoulder. Ford is leaning against the hood over his car keeping an eye on the man in question having a lunch time smoke break. 

"So grunkle Ford what are we going to do? Dipper inquiries, sitting on Ford's bumper.

"We, no I'm going to get his cigarette butt and confirm its him beyond a shadow of a doubt," Ford infroms watching as Robbie drops his now finished cigarette to the ground and walk away. "Now." Ford now walks to Robbie's previous location. 

He picks up the butt and tests it with the gun. "Ding." That is the most relieving sound Ford could hear, he whips out his cell and pushes a couple buttons.

Meanwhile Dipper has been keeping an eye on Robbie destain, hate, anger swell within him as bile inches up his throat at the very thought of him. Watching from afar he sees a white van pull up next to Robbie three men hop out grabbing him putting a bag over his head and pulling him into the van with such speed if Dipper wasn't paying attention he wouldn't have known where Robbie had gone. As quickly as the van appeared it drives off out of Dipper's sight.

Ford gets back to Dipper. "Huh, there execution of acquiring the target was swift and flawless," Ford comments getting in his car. "color me impressed, come on hop in we need to me them at the rendezvous point." Ford says, starting the car. 

Dipper looks at Ford with a look of bewilderment, getting in the passenger side. "What the fuck just happened!?"

Driving to a deserted warehouse Ford enlightens. "Pedro happened, he's the head of a small group of mercenaries from Stan's past," walking into the warehouse Ford sees Robbie tied up tightly to a chair. "As we agreed $5000." Ford says tossing a brick of cash to Pedro. 

"Alright boys it's all here let's go." Pedro orders.

"Oh, may I ask who was the get away driver?" Ford asks particularly impressed with his skills.

"That would be Ryan." Pedro informs.

"Your timing and stealth were impeccable." Ford compliments.

"The trick is once you get out of visual sight just go the speed limit to remain undetected it's easy," Ryan boasts. "well if you have any more jobs that need my services you have my number." Ryan reminds walking off with his gang. 

"Will do," Ford yells to the group walking away, leaning in Ford says to Dipper "there actually very pleasant individuals... When you don't owe them money." Turning his attention to Robbie.

"Now your in for a utter waking hell, you rapist scum," Ford waltzes over to the wall where old tools still hang in the abandoned warehouse. "what do you want to start with Dipper hand saw, pliers, clamps?" 

Robbie can only breath through his nose as the Mercenaries gagged him. 

Dipper approaches Ford picking up the pliers, with pliers in hand he stands in front of Robbie. "I will NEVER forget what you did to me." Dipper uses the pliers ripping out the first of ten finger nails. 

Robbie can only cry and struggle both are pointless and futile.

(I don't know if I should continue this and go all out on the gore and torture let me know in the comments.)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A thanks to all my readers this fic has been one hell of a ride to write and hopefully read I sincerely hope you've enjoyed and leave a kudos if you did.

**Author's Note:**

> If you like my stories then please go to my profile and subscribe for updates! - Zero. Also check out my groups Tumblr tumblr: scar-collaboration.
> 
> Want to join the writing group that created this work? It is full of sinful writers called Sin Corps Army Reborn! It is open to everyone! So if you want to pop in and talk to our members and maybe write with us you can! Even if you want to just try it out and you realize the group is not for you that is alright! The link is this https://discord.gg/ethNnSJ


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